Crossing the Vale into Valinor
by iCaple
Summary: Trish, Corey, and Dave get unceremoniously dumped into a glade of myrtle in Valinor. Feat. the Thrush, Glorfindel (Glory), and a surprise appearance by Daddy T himself. Enjoy!


When the first day of MythMoot was over, everyone was ready to crash after a long day discussing Tolkien scholarship and a spirited discussion of the films, various presentations, and the film to follow next December.

The special at the restaurant that Corey, Trish, and Dave ate that night was a lightly sautéed shrimp salad. The Riddles in the Dark gang shared a huge platter, meanwhile eying Verlyn Flieger and trying not to eavesdrop on her conversations.

At the bar, there was wine, and beer, and a formidable supply of corn nuts. Corey and Dave each stumbled off to his room and Trish soon crashed in her own. All three fell in their beds, each too exhausted to set their morning alarms.

This is the account of the adventures that followed, and the whys and wherefores come after. Enjoy.

Corey sat up and realized that he had been sleeping on the ground. Not in a bed, but soft earth. He heard a groan from Trish and a murmured apology from Dave.

"Where are we?"

Dave sat up and rubbed his eyes. Trish rolled over and yelped as tough roots dug into her shoulder. "Dave, what did you do?"

"Me? I did nothing. Where are we?"

"Beats me," Corey admitted. "This is a beautiful morning, though."

It was true; birds were tweeting their hellos and an inquisitive thrush peered at them from between the leaves on the sheltering trees above.

"Hey! A thrush!" Dave marveled at the sleek bird, which chirped at him appealingly.

Corey's lips moved silently. In a moment he knew what had happened, or hoped he did. If this was a dream, he hoped it would improve as the night progressed. Darn shrimp.

There was a distant neighing of a horse, and an answering whinny close by. Dave jumped up, looking around frantically. His head spun and he almost fell over. Too much wine.

Trish was not altogether lost. She'd been out in woods like these often in her college days. Reminded of her old flame, Glorfindel, as she had called him, she smiled at the memory of his glistening golden hair, his love of horses, and the way he had smelled.

The next whinny was much closer, and there seemed to a quiet wind ruffling through the leaves of the sheltering myrtle. The smell of leather and faint spices drifted to Trish as she basked in the golden sunlight. She could almost hear his voice, calling, "Tricia?" He sounded shocked. That couldn't be right. She opened her eyes again.

"Tricia!"

Dave and Corey both saw and heard a tall man approach through the tall grass.

"Oh, powers! Glory! Is it really you?" Trish sprang up and ran to the man.

Glorfindel laughed a powerful laugh and swept Trish off her feet. She whooped and clung to him, until he placed her gently on her feet, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I wish I could have told you I was leaving, babe. The Spooks were after me!"

"The CIA? Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America?" Dave couldn't believe what his eyes were showing him. An honest to goodness elf.

Glorfindel turned to Corey and Dave.

"Hola, dudes! Que pasa?"

Corey regarded Glorfindel with an appraising eye. Despite the golden hair and delicate elven nose, he bore a slight tan and seemed to be wearing a jerkin of leather over a jean jacket, with the words "California Lovin'" faintly legible on a faded red cotton shirt.

"Yeah, man. They were gonna cut me up and study my brain! Luckily, I got out of there just in time. "

"Oh my gosh! What happened?" Trish was riveted.

"The eighties happened, doll. Wish I coulda seen you. But then, it's Valinor, right? For your information, there is like, this really awesome timeshare program for we really rich elves. Most don't care to use it, but," Glorfindel shrugged his blonde hair out of his eyes. "it's really neat. Ilúvatar bless America. Love that place."

Dave staggered and tottered for a moment, then sprawled on the grass, completely passed out. Corey shook his head. Some shrimp!

"Well!" Corey counted to ten and took a deep breath, while Trish cuddled up to whom could only be Asfaloth. The great horse blew gently into her nose. Corey finished counting, and then addressed Glorfindel.

"We are not dead, are we? I never could have imagined being in Valinor, but here we are!"

Glorfindel shook his head sadly. "No, you are not dead. I wanted to see Tricia before I head back to wherever I'm going next. Ilúvatar sometimes allows visitors to come here. You might not see him, though. Then you really would die."

Corey sighed. So much for that.

"Well, I'll walk Asfaloth and the other fellow can ride. You are?"

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm Corey Olsen, the Tol-

"Don't say it!" Glorfindel became alarmed.

"-keen professor."

"Oh, man. I wish you hadn't have said that! Quick, hide." Glory dragged Dave into the tall grass and Trish hid behind Asfaloth. Corey took cover behind a nearby bush.

"Did someone mention me?" A tall man of medium build with a long beard ambled up to Glorfindel, hands in trouser pockets. He had a deep voice, which struck a chord with the shaky-kneed Dave.

"Y-y-es," Glorfindel seemed flustered. "I think. I mean, that is to say, oh, well, you know how it is when, I um, I was just, you know how when…"

"Never mind." The man wandered off, whistling.

Dave roused himself. "Is that who I think it was?" His eyes focused slowly and he stared hard at the retreating form.

"Yeah," Glorfindel picked Dave up and slung him over a broad shoulder. "Up you go! Asfaloth, we're right behind you." Glorfindel fell back to talk with Corey and Trish, who clutched at his arm.

"Why did you pretend you didn't know what was going on? That was Mr. T, right?"

Glorfindel shook his head at Corey. "Can't lie here. It's bad form. You understand." Corey did.

"So, you think you're in a dream, huh?"

"Well, I'm open to all possibilities. How did you get to know Trish?" Corey was genuinely curious. He'd heard Trish admonish him to remember that Glorfindel was her 'old boyfriend,' but how was supposed to know she'd met the real deal?

"Well, you know how it is. College and all." Glorfindel smiled down at Trish. "We had a really great time." He shrugged his hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah, Glory. Tell the professor how you barely graduated after six years with a degree in American architecture from Stanford. All you wanted to do was hang out on the beach!"

"You're right. I was trying to get Ulmo to help me get back on the waves again, but he just looked right through me and said nothing. But he smiled, though. I think. Also, I can't find my board, which just ticks me off."

Trish giggled. "So did you get any more tattoos?"

If possible, Glorfindel blushed under his tan. "Hoped you'd forgotten about that."va

"Ah," Corey said, understanding completely. "College. It was the best of times…"

"And the worst of times," Glorfindel finished. "Yeah, that's about right. I had to leave California. It was rough."

"Poor baby." Trish stroked his fantastic hair. "So where are we going?"

"Ah, just walking around. Get used to things. It's been so long! I've missed your laugh. I've heard Olorin laugh so much. Try to have a real conversation and he just laughs." Glorfindel sniffed.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. It's great up here! Are there any Mearas around I can talk to?"

"Naw, babe. Just Asfaloth. I gotta take you riding sometime. I wonder if we'll have the chance."

Corey was bursting with questions. He voiced the foremost in his mind. "When are we?"

Glorfindel wrinkled his nose delicately, and then grinned. "There is no time in Valinor."

"Oh. Right. Should've known that."

Glorfindel nodded sagely.

"Glory, did you know I named a horse after you?" Trish queried, mischief in her eyes.

"No, I didn't. Palomino?" Trish nodded. "Good girl."

Corey muffled a hysterical laugh that came out as a high pitched squeak. "Sorry. It just came out."

Trish was not so shy. "We were doing this show, and I was talking how I named Glory after you. Our friend Keith Dill was so shocked, he said, 'Why didn't you name the horse Asfaloth?' And he said, "Well, Glory is a better name than Assy."

Glorfindel choked. "You didn't."

"Oh, yes, I did."

"Okay then," he recomposed himself and stood a little straighter. "So here we are."

"Where are we? It's just an empty field," Dave managed to say, clinging to Glorfindel's stirrup on an increasingly indignant Asfaloth.

Glorfindel sighed. "The Tomb of the Hapless."

"Why?" Corey and Trish chorused.

"You said you've always thought that Turin represented a net loss to the Elven community, Professor," Glorfindel remarked, winking at Trish.

"Wha-what?" Corey, flabbergasted, stared up at Glorfindel. "You listen to the Silmarillion seminar?"

"Haha, yeah," Glorfindel admitted. "Who doesn't? And Trish, gotta say, I've missed your laugh. It isn't the same over the internet. But I'll take what I can get."

"Ohmigod," Trish spluttered. "Glorfindel's my fanboy."

The tall elf laughed a rich, rolling, deep sound that made everyone smile. "It's time to wake up."

The trio blinked as they slid backward, past a sunrise, a green field, and a gray mist to emerge each in his or her own room, groggy, cottonmouthed, and slightly queasy.

Trish rolled over in bed, savoring the last of her dream. She could still almost smell the scent of what she would always associate with elves even in her waking mind. It smelled like silver. Opening her eyes, she pulled something out from under the hotel pillow.

It was a faded red surfer tank with just two words on it.

California Lovin.'

THE END.

Elena Caple


End file.
